


Snapdragon

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, First Kiss, M/M, Medieval Revels, Romance, Seasonal, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 03:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: It's the eve of Yule in Camelot and grand celebrations are in order. As the night progresses, the guests gathered in the great hall to celebrate with King Arthur play an innocent game of Snapdragon.





	Snapdragon

The hall was bedecked with holly and mistletoe came down from the rafters, shiny, perfectly round red berries mingling with its jagged, pointed green leaves. Other evergreens festooned the window alcoves and garlanded the doors in redolent arches that smelled like woodland. Their scent mingled with that of the fresh rushes strewn on the floor, mixing with the perfumes of sap coming from the hearth's kindling. Meanwhile the Yule log burned, blazing merrily and sending sparks every which way, illuminating the great hall with its life-giving light. 

Bright candles stood on stands and on the tables on which huge trays lay, some laden with boars' head, some with venison cut into perfectly glazed slices and some with peacocks dressed in ginger and sage. Mince pies lay bundled together in small baskets placed in front of each pair of guests.

Wine flowed as did ale spiced with juniper; maids passed around milk possets and the wassail cup was continuously replenished.

Arthur sat at the high table, his crown on his head, catching the light of the numerous tapers and flambeaux scattered across the table and glinting with its own golden aura. Having discarded his chainmail for once, he was wearing a burgundy tunic of the softest materials. Merlin knew that because he had helped Arthur into it himself. Fashionably, Arthur's cloak was draped behind him, its folds soft and billowy. Gwen had her place at his side. Tonight her hair was coiffed into a loose tress interspersed with jewels and winter flowers, her own circlet encompassing her head, a ruby droplet hanging from the golden threads in the front and marking the middle of her forehead.

Just before another course was brought in, servants carried a bowl into the hall and set it on a trestle. The bowl was full of aqua vitae, a cordial Gaius himself had brewed from ancient Roman recipes. A maid dropped raisins, almonds, and candied fruit into the cauldron. When this was done, Gaius moved to her side. He struck a kitchen iron against a chip of chert and the bowl lit up, flames licking merrily upwards so that they cleared the rim of the container by a hand's width or more.

Having cleared his throat beforehand, Gaius said. “The time has come for Yuletide's games and revels.” All the courtiers assembled in the room clapped their hands. The knights, led by Gwaine, catcalled. “The aim of this first game of snapdragon is fairly simple,” he said, his voice suited to address a whole roomful. “The participant must snatch the fruit without burning their fingers.”

Most courtiers booed. The task seemed impossible with the flames shooting high past the rim of the bowl. 

Gaius acknowledged that with a nod of the head. “I'm afraid the task set must be arduous or everyone would win the prize.”

Gwaine drank a mouthful from a tall tankard. “And what's the prize, Gaius?”

Gaius inclined his head at the high table.

It was Arthur who rose and spoke. “The winner will be king for a day.” Arthur inclined his head when Gwen smiled at him. “Free to command the people of Camelot.”

A low murmur spread amongst the King's guests. Though the game was old just as topsy turvy traditions were, this outcome was rather new. Everyone seemed pleased with the revels and the idea of winning however, for no one, not even the highest ranking officials objected. 

“Let the games begin,” Arthur said, holding up a golden cup, a mirror to Gwen, who was doing the same.

A queue of participants vied for the flaming bowl, each of them wanting to be king for a day.

The first to start was a stable boy, whom Merlin knew by sight. He approached the bowl with a rather tentative air and tried to fish a fruit out of it. His sleeve caught fire, however, and his friends had to put it out.

The next to try was the Lord Treasurer. He was a very old man, with a white beard and a bald head. He flung his hand in, but his reflexes were slow, so he moved away from the bowl howling with pain. Gaius was quick to see him and pronounce him in no danger.

A fine lady who had ambitions to become closer to the royals by marrying Arthur's cousin was the third to attempt her luck. Her technique was good. She plunged her hand in with her sleeves rolled back, but she tried for too long and she had to step back scalded. Her husband to be, however, consoled her with a kiss and an embrace, so it didn't go too badly for her.

Next was Sir Gwaine. He surrendered his tankard to one of the passing maids and sauntered over to the fiery bowl. Bowing for his audience, he said, “I wouldn't mind being as pampered as a king for once.”

Everyone laughed at his antics, especially his fellow knights.

Getting more serious about his task, Gwaine took a big breath, cast away his knightly cloak, and, hand clothed in his leather glove, tried to catch the fruit collected at the end of the bowl. At first it looked like he'd got hold of some candied piece of fruit, but then his glove caught fire and Gwaine, gritting his teeth, extracted his hand. “No luck this time,” he said, winking at his audience. “Maybe I'll be King of Yule next year.”

Arthur couldn't suppress a smirk. “Well, Sir Gwaine,” he called out from the high dais, “you'll have to lay aside your aspirations to royalty for the coming year.”

All bystanders laughed from the most titled noble down to the humblest scullery hand.

Standing alongside Gaius, Merlin watched the rest of the proceedings. Person after person tried and failed. The flames leaped too high for them or they were not quick enough to dart in and claim the prize. Before long, he supposed, someone would succeed, for the flames would stop being fed by the alcohol contained in the bowl. There was yet some life in the fire though and some more entertainment to be had from this game.

With a raised eyebrow and a determined air, Geoffrey of Monmouth approached the bowl. Adjusting his cloak so its hems wouldn't meet the flames, he stuck his hand into the hot liquid.

Merlin had never thought good old staid Geoffrey was one for seasonal fun and games, much less prone to trying to usurp Arthur, albeit for a day. Still, he almost wished he would make it. After all those hours spent in the great library Geoffrey needed some diversion. It would make him less finicky and less prone to tell Merlin off. Sadly, Geoffrey failed too. With a hoot of pain, he started backwards, tripping into his cloak as he did so.

Just as Gaius called for the next person to attempt the feat, Merlin was possessed by the spirit of mischief. Why not try? Though born in what was technically Essetir, Merlin was a Camelot subject just like the others. And by virtue of his endless efforts on Arthur's behalf (which were both part of his duties as a servant and a result of his magical protection of his master) he had a right to try and be King for a day.

Still moved by the same feelings as before – and perhaps by the wassail drinks he had had when he'd gone knocking on village doors – he stepped forwards.

As Merlin stepped forward, Gwaine clapped, followed by the Queen. Arthur arched an eyebrow, while the other courtiers murmured their commentary of the ongoing action and encouraged him by turns. 

Borne on by a wave of support, Merlin accosted the big bowl. The flames flared red at the outer edges and blue at their core. The liqueur bubbled with heat, but Merlin could still clock the fruit at the bottom of the vessel. 

Having watched the previous attempts, Merlin rolled up his sleeve. He didn't particularly want the garment to catch fire after all. He didn't have that many shirts. He was about to stick his hand in and trust his luck, when Arthur said, “Come on, Merlin, what are you waiting for?” His tone was taunting, but his face was relaxed in a benevolent smile, his eyes shining with feelings that warmed Merlin more than proximity to the cauldron ever could. “I hope you're not giving up after you've pledged yourself. That wouldn't be in tune with the spirit of the season, would it?”

Given the barb, Merlin couldn't bow out. He'd never hear the end of it. Even more now that Arthur had dared him. Merlin never backed down when Arthur goaded him. It was part of the thing they had got going. Merlin realised it wasn't really wise. They were adults and by now they should have stopped the bickering, but it really came naturally to them. So Merlin, possessed by a will to succeed, gave it everything he had.

He had originally meant to try his luck just as the others had, but he had now changed his mind. He would cheat, just a little. Concentrating so his eyes wouldn't spark and give him away, he summoned a little bit of his magic, just a tendril of it. When he cast his hand in the cauldron, the flames didn't burn. They continued dancing but they didn't touch him at all. His magic shielded him from them.

Because of this protection, he was free to root at the bottom of the bowl. He actually groped it for longer than was actually necessary before latching onto a slice of apple. Letting go of his magic, he lifted it out of the liquid it had been immersed in, holding it up to show everyone had it.

Cheers clattered across the room and they mingled with the applause of Merlin's dearest friends: Sir Elyan and Sir Leon, Gwaine and Percival. 

Eyes rounded in surprise, Arthur belatedly clapped, acknowledging Merlin's success. When Gwen elbowed him, Arthur stepped down the high table and came over to him, his cloak billowing after him in regal fashion. 

When they stood face to face, Arthur took off his heavy golden crown. “A crown is a symbol of royalty and duty,” he said, addressing the whole room with the firm strong voice he used for speeches and declarations. Though this wasn't a serious occasion, he didn't show any embarrassment in taking part in the joke. “Merlin won the contest fair and square and as such he gets to be king for a day.”

Since this was a tradition in many parts of Albion everyone nodded, whispering about their memories of previous winners.

Arthur continued. “The Yule King will rule just like a real king would. As such he must be obeyed.”

Acquiescence fell from the lips of the gathered guests. 

Arthur said, “There are limitations, of course. The Yule King can't declare war or change the basic laws of Camelot. Though he can implement day laws which will last as long as his rule. Such laws must be obeyed by the Yule King's subjects.”

Arthur waited for the message to sink in. When everybody seemed to have understood, Arthur looked at Merlin. His gaze was full of mirth and mischief, camaraderie also oozing from him.. 

Merlin couldn't help but suspect Arthur wasn't too put-out by the outcome of the day. He felt as though he and Arthur were on the same wavelength here, shared the same emotions. The Yuletide season had relaxed them both. Ever since the frost set in, the enemies of Camelot had retreated to their keeps, postponing all thoughts of warfare. This had given Arthur time to enjoy the season and be himself.

And, well, when Arthur was happy Merlin was happy. There was more to that though. At the thought Arthur was having fun with this, with him, hope and joy spread through Merlin. The idea warmed him through and through, made him think that all was right with his world. Merlin'd give up everything to make sure that life allowed Arthur to always be like this. 

A smile tugged at Arthur's lips as he put his crown on Merlin's head. 

Bearing the weight of the crown wasn't so easy, Merlin found. The thing was heavy, the band of metal already constricting his forehead. But he was the Yule King and he had to play along. Holding his temporary crown so it wouldn't fall off his head, he bowed.

Everyone cheered, apart from Gaius, who raised a questioning eyebrow. Gwaine was the loudest, cupping his mouth so as to better vocalise his support.

Since Merlin was now King, everyone kneeled as Arthur accompanied him to the high table. So escorted, Merlin took Arthur's chair. Smiling at him, Gwen slipped her arm under his and leant into him. “Would you like anything to drink, my Lord?” she asked, playing expertly along.

Now that he came to think about it, Merlin was indeed thirsty. He'd been up with the sun, had helped the other servants deck out the halls. Because of an understaffing situation, he'd also helped in the kitchens and though he might have stolen a pastry or two, he hadn't had much the whole day, for when the revels had begun he'd started serving Arthur, making sure his cup was always full, and that his plate was always laden. So barring the drinks he'd had as part of his wassailing jaunt, he did deserve a little reward. 

So Merlin stood, picked up a goblet, and toasted the whole castle population. 

Everyone drank in his honour, Gwaine most of all, though Arthur and Gwen weren't any the less active in that regard.

When Merlin had exhausted the contents of that first goblet, he rose again. “Yule is a time for misrule,” he said, probably already a little in his cups, if the unsteadiness of his legs was anything to go by. “So I declare all servants lords and all lords servants. Let those who toil drink and be merry for one day.”

This time Merlin's declaration was met with much more noise than his acclamation to royal status had been, for all the servants were rejoicing and all the lords complaining. Kitchen hands had flung off their aprons, and lackeys had discarded their hats. The nobles were rather pale and pinched in the face, but that didn't worry Merlin a lot. They lived a life of ease; they could adapt to serving for one day.

So it was that Merlin ate and drank his fill, his feet warmed by the hearth, his limbs eased by the comfortable seat. All his fellow hirelings, from scullery maids to char boys, were partaking as well, food heaped high on their plates, tankards of mead by their sides.

By this time the knights had turned into gentlemen's gentlemen, and Gwen, like Arthur, had discarded her circlet. She sat at a lower table, dressing the hair of one of her favourite ladies in waiting.

Arthur, for his part, filled Merlin's cup and cut his food, something Merlin had thought fit to require and that Arthur didn't seem to keen on doing. 

“How am I supposed to eat boar if it's not cut into smaller pieces?” Merlin asked, with an eyebrow quirked just like Gaius did

“What!” Arthur scoffed, though the humour of the situation was reflected in his eyes. “Don't you even have the strength to wield a little kitchen knife, Merlin?”

“Well, I'm not a fine warrior like you.” Merlin gesticulated at Arthur's admittedly firm and fit body. “I need help.”

Biting off a retort, Arthur made short work of Merlin's meat, chopping it into large morsels that would have choked a chomping horse. “Is Your Majesty satisfied?

“Not quite,” Merlin said. “I think you can definitely do better.”

Muttering choice curse words under his breath, Arthur gritted his teeth and cut Merlin's meat into bites so small even a toothless babe would have had no problem with them.

Merlin glared. He hadn't wanted his meat served like that! Why couldn't Arthur be like Gwaine, who'd taken a liking to this serving lark and attended his nightly overlord – a young cup-bearer – hand and foot? With a long and elaborate sigh, Merlin started eating the finely ground boar meat. 

He wasn't really hungry anymore though. He needed little to function and his mother had taught him how not to be greedy with his food, the more so since there used to be little of it in Ealdor. But he was having fun ribbing Arthur. Besides, he'd never have this opportunity again.

So he enjoyed it to the full. 

When he was so sated he couldn't have eaten even one more grain of food, he clapped his hands together and asked for entertainment. “A nice Yule farce.”

The company of minstrels who had stopped at the castle for Yule finally had the chance to show off their skills and this year Merlin was able to watch from a prime place at the King's table.

He watched the actors tumble and dance, juggle and topple over, playing out funny incidents involving misunderstandings and farcical situations, interspersed with a bit of mummery and foolishness.

Merlin was so happy with the performance, the like of which had never been witnessed in his native Ealdor, that he invited the minstrels to come again next year. Just after having uttered the proposition though, he looked to Arthur for confirmation. Next year, after all, Merlin wouldn't be king and Arthur would have retaken his proper place. Wearing an approving expression, Arthur nodded, his lips just slightly curved in a little smile.

“As my Lord King wishes,” the head minstrel said, bowing and scraping. “We'll be here next year, ready with a new tale. Perhaps this time it will be about a fair and honest knight --” he glanced at Sir Gwaine here – “being defied by a supernatural creature wanting his head.”

“We'll await your performance with baited breath,” Merlin said, nodding to the Royal Treasurer, who moved towards the group of minstrels. “In the meanwhile have a reward of ten gold coins for your efforts.”

Hard work should be lauded, Merlin thought, and Arthur didn't seem to disagree either, for he looked on with approval.

By and by all games and revels ended, leaving the guests tired but happy. One by one, or in groups, they all filed out, retiring to their chambers for a full night of sleep.

At last only Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, and Gwen's lady-in-waiting remained. 

With a little groan, Merlin heaved himself up and out of high seat, and stepped down the dais, taking off his crown to give to Arthur.

“Keep it,” Arthur said, grinning at him. “Yule hasn't ended yet.”

“But you'll want me to prepare your room for the night,” Merlin said, thinking of all the tasks that awaited him. “You'll need me to help you disrobe and--”

“Merlin--” Arthur put his hand on Merlin's mouth. “You're King tonight.”

“Really, Merlin,” Gwen told him, draping herself around her lady-in-waiting, “you should make use of this opportunity. Arthur won't be so accommodating all the rest of the year.”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur made a goofy face, both eyebrows meeting across a creased brow. “I'm always a just king.”

“Prattle,” Merlin said.

“Just and fair.” Gwen laughed. “But not easy-going on poor Merlin.”

“I'm very easy going,” Arthur said, knocking shoulders with Merlin. “Merlin might be my servant, but I give him lots of leeway. Any other master would have sacked him before he shrunk any of his tunics.”

In shame, Merlin bowed his head. It was true he had ruined a few of Arthur's clothes... and his socks needed mending and his sword needed polishing and... Merlin didn't really want to think about all the chores awaiting him. “It might still fit you,” he nevertheless said, “if you ate less.”

Arthur blew out air, protesting the affront.

Gwen leant her head on her lady-in-waiting's shoulder and said, “Arthur might scoff, but he loves you dearly, Merlin.”

Merlin blushed and when he looked at Arthur he noticed that Arthur's colour was heightened too.

“For which reason.” Gwen curtsied elegantly, the train of her velvet dress moving with her. “I'm leaving you two to figure this out so you can properly enjoy this season of misrule.”

So saying, Gwen gave her lady-in-waiting a kiss on the cheek, then she threaded her hand in the fair maiden's and the two of them left the great all giggling together.

Arthur didn't seem surprised at all, nor did he look angry or disappointed. “She misses my sister,” Arthur said, with a more sombre tone than the night elicited. “She's grown as fond of Anna of Orkney as Morgana used to be of her.”

Merlin's eyes widened. He now understood more of Gwen and Morgana's relationship then he had in the past. How could he have been so blind?

“I'll try and make Morgana see reason.” He wasn't only telling Arthur. He was promising himself. There had to be a way to have the old Morgana back. “I vow that, Arthur.”

Arthur shook his head. “If I couldn't, why do you think you could, Merlin?”

Merlin was about to tell Arthur that he probably was the likeliest person to persuade Morgana to abandon the darker side of magic because he was exactly like her and had shared some of her fears and doubts. But magic was still outlawed in Camelot and Merlin was only a farce king. He couldn't change the statutes. But one day, one day, Merlin would tell Arthur. For now he just said, “She used to like me.”

Arthur accepted that without pointing out the different stations Merlin and Morgana occupied in life. Looking down, he nodded a few times as if to himself, shifting his weight from side to side. As though he had put away his feelings concerning his sister, he then met Merlin's gaze head on and there was no hint of the previous sadness in his voice when he spoke again. “Gwen was right, Merlin. We should enjoy this night.”

Merlin wasn't sure what Arthur was talking about. The feast had ended. Even if he was excused his duties, only a cold bed awaited him. There would be no more celebrations, no more occasion for mirth till the new year broke in. Certainly not tonight. “Um?”

Once again Arthur sidled this way and that. He folded his hands together, then uncrossed them. He walked round Merlin and then came to a halt right in front of him. “You're my lord and master tonight, Merlin.”

“Yes, well.” It was nice of Arthur to prolong the charade so Merlin could avoid thinking about his stern duties. “How many hours will Camelot still be under my rule'”

“A good few.” Arthur stepped closer, so they stood chest to chest. “I thought we might use that time to good purpose.”

Merlin had the firm impression there was something he was getting wrong. “How? Everyone else is gone.” There was little point in being Yule King when no one else was around. He couldn't amuse his fellow servants by raising their stations for a night and he couldn't be outrageous in his comments and declarations, thus scandalising the aristocracy. He could tease Arthur some more, but he didn't want to do that anymore. He'd had his fill and Arthur was nothing other but his king, and Merlin was fine with serving him till the day he died. “I don't--”

“Merlin.” Arthur wrapped a hand around his wrist. “This night is the night for discarding rules, for subverting behaviours. I've--” He swallowed, his Adam's apple plunging and rising. “I've always lived by the notions that govern this world of ours, where Kings command and servants obey.” He tilted his head in thought while still managing to keep eye contact with Merlin. “But I haven't always found them right and I'm tired of obeying them.”

Merlin had indeed noticed that Arthur had enjoyed himself tonight. “So don't be kingly tonight.”

“I don't mean to be at all.” Arthur licked his lips. “In fact I mean to overturn all expectations.”

“Are you trying to say we can be friends tonight?” After all, Arthur had often said that if he wasn't a crowned head, he would be Merlin's friend. If Arthur meant to divest himself of all pomp and court tonight, then they could be equals. Merlin had always wished for more of that in their relationship. Because Merlin revered Arthur so and he wished he could just have more of the man's attention and that could only happen on an even footing. He supposed it wasn't meant to be though, since Merlin had vowed to be forever loyal to Arthur while Arthur had done no such thing. “Is that so?”

Arthur squared both jaw and shoulders. “If I have to be entirely honest, Merlin, I have always thought you my friend. I have for years now.”

Happiness washed through Merlin like a tidal wave of magic. It gladdened his heart and made it clomp in his chest. It put tears in his eyes – the good kind of tears, as his mother always said – and made him smile like an unhinged fool. Not even bothering hiding the effect Arthur's words had had on him, he said, “And you're mine, Arthur.”

Arthur's shoulders bunched and then sloped. “And that's all I'm meant to be, is it? The King and sometime friend?”

Merlin craned his head and furrowed his brow. “I thought you actually didn't want to call yourself my friend because it was too humiliating for a king.”

Arthur shook his head and laughed. “Are you playing coy, Merlin? Or are you trying to put me off kindly? If that's the case, I'll speak no more about it.”

“Uh?” The furrows on Merlin's forehead deepened. 

“Can the meaning of Gwen's words have escaped you?” Arthur threw his hands up.

“Gwen said we should have fun.” Merlin was pretty sure that was the gist.

“Yes!” Arthur's eyes were rather wide and his tone more than a little emphatic. “She meant for us to follow her example.”

Merlin thought over Gwen's actions. She had told them to enjoy then night and had marched out with her lady-in-waiting. Oh that. Merlin's mouth progressively opened. Gwen had seemed intimate with Anna. So much so Merlin was sure they would spend the night together. Was Arthur suggesting... Merlin needed to know because this was more than he had ever dared to hope and he couldn't bear the disappointment if he had misunderstood. “Do you mean to say you want us to...”

“Yes!” Arthur's voice was still higher than normal; however, he appeared to tamp down on that, sobering more and more. “But only if that's what you want, Merlin.”

Merlin's breath faltered in his chest and the blood pumped rashly to his face. Emotion broke him and remade him, causing a soft ache to bloom inside him in the shape of the most overwhelming love he had ever felt. It wasn't a new sensation, for he had harboured it long. It was rather a dear and familiar friend, but now that it had scope, he was overwhelmed by it in fierce rushes he couldn't quite master. His throat not working properly, Merlin tried to explain himself. “Arthur, I'm yours through and through.”

“Are we talking about the same thing here?” Arthur asked, his mouth firm, his expression stern and serious. “Are we talking about loyalty to an overlord or...”

“We are talking about my feelings for you.” Arthur needed to know what Merlin thought. “I'm loyal to you because I look up to you and respect you.”

“It still doesn't sound as though we're on the same page, Merlin.” Arthur sighed.

Oh but Arthur was really slow on the uptake. How could he not see that Merlin would give everything for him, sacrifice everything, renounce his own happiness if it served Arthur? “ I'm loyal to you because you have all my love, Arthur.”

Joy painted itself across Arthur's features as did other unbridled emotions. His eyes shone with all of it, and though it was clear he was trying to keep most of it in check, he still looked like a man over the moon. 

And then he pressed forward with all the power of motion of the man at arms, palmed Merlin's face and touched his lips to Merlin's.

As sensation bloomed, Merlin failed to catch the next breath. He wasn't even sure his heart was still functioning. Either way he had to process wave after wave of elation, of such contentment he thought he could never experience more if he lived a thousand years.

And then Arthur's mouth slowly opened atop Merlin's and they gently touched tongues. Merlin was tingling all over and his heart, which was definitely working overtime now, pounded like thunder. For balance Merlin's hand settled on Arthur's hip and they stood there, as their kiss grew and lasted, as if they were nourishing themselves on it. And as it dwindled, they licked short licks and nibbled little bites, until they were just rubbing sore lips together. 

By the time they found they had to draw in some air, their noses were still bumping together and their lips connected.

Breathless, Arthur said, “Want more of this?”

“Yes, most definitely yes.” Though he had been so free in declaring that, misgiving overruled Merlin. This was only topsy turvy; the chaos of Yule, the night of nights, the shortest of the year. “I'll take what I'm offered for as long as Yule lasts.”

“I wasn't,” Arthur said.

“Wasn't what?” Merlin knit his eyebrows.

“Just offering the one night.” Arthur looked so earnest and honest not even a suspicious soul could have doubted his words. “I mean, if you should agree, to make a thing of it.”

A smile bloomed big and hearty on Merlin's lips. “Well, in that case.” He touched his lips to Arthur's. “I won't say nay.”

“Good.” Arthur caught his lips with his and they traded a long, long kiss.

Lips reddened with it, Merlin stopped himself. “What of the Queen?”

“Gwen?” Arthur cocked his head. “She encouraged this because she wants it to happen. While we are husband and wife we know the heart wants what it wants. She wants some of what she had with Morgana back. I--”

“You?” Merlin had no doubt now. He knew what Arthur meant by his actions, but he still wanted him to admit some of it

“I think I'm absurdly fond of my manservant and require he share my bed at any time I may so wish.”

“Your wish is my command.” Merlin bowed his head. 

“You're the Yule King, Merlin,” Arthur said. “That should be my cue.”

“Oh, oh.” Merlin pulled the silliest of smiles. “Is that true in bed as well?”

Arthur stepped away from him, making for the door. “That's for you to find out.”

So Merlin followed Arthur out the great hall, which still smelt like holly, and up the cold winding staircase that led to Arthur's chamber. Once he was inside it, the fire dancing behind the grate, Arthur's bed still in disarray from the morning, Merlin almost failed to believe he was to spend the night there, like a cherished companion.

Likely guessing some of it, Arthur poured him a glass of sweet wine and gave it to him. “It's not the mulled wine you favour, but this comes from the far South.”

Sipping his wine, Merlin drifted over to the window, overlooking the snow-covered and empty courtyard. Because of its desolation, there was nothing there that could catch his attention, so his gaze lifted and went to the stars. His eyes blazed as he spoke words of magic under his breath. A star twinkled in response, the brightest in the firmament. This Yule night would last longer than any other, giving Merlin more time to spend in Arthur's embrace. 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Alison Weir's book, Tudor Christmas. The tradition mentioned in this story is actually from Tudor times and brandy not Aqua Vitae was used. (But apparently Brandy also was first made in the fifteenth century so I had to go with something actually existing in earlier times.) This means that this story is very faux medieval.


End file.
